


Western Double Feature

by KierneM



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22925215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KierneM/pseuds/KierneM
Summary: Set in the West of a Modern Earth in (mostly) the present day, Rancher Varian Wrynn and his son Anduin do their best to maintain Circle W Ranch, come what may.
Relationships: Garrosh Hellscream/Varian Wrynn, Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 36
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Fae, Sed, Winter, and all the other insanely creative folk at Lionfang Discord for the seed of an idea that blossomed into this story. You are all an inspiration and a joy! :)

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

****

The ancient truck bounced down the two-lane blacktop. Varok Saurfang, of Blackrock Clan, was looking for a new place to work. Hopefully on a large ranch where he could keep to himself and stay out of trouble. Some 50’s country crooner sang about lonesome love on the radio, making a perfect counterpoint to Varok’s sigh. He saw the entry for a ranch and slowed down, hoping for a ‘help wanted’ sign.

An arrangement of sticks propped up against the fence – looking for all the world like long-forgotten kindling – gave him hope. They spelled out the orc trail sign for ‘home’. Varok noted the sign over the driveway – Circle W Ranch – and pulled in. The driveway separated two large pastures. The one on his left was fallow, but on his right, a large herd of cattle grazed peacefully in the rolling meadow. Varok didn’t see fence on the other side of the enormous pasture.

Eventually he pulled up to a large farmhouse, with barns, chicken coops, a large garden – every sign showing this was a prosperous, well-managed place. He cut the radio off, then silenced the engine, and climbed out. His boots kicked up little bits of gravel as he walked to the back door of the house.

_Hello, ma’am, my name is Varok, of the Blackrock Clan. I’m looking to sign on, full time year-round if you have it, seasonal if that’s all you need_ , Varok practiced what to say in his head as he walked around the corner. Human females often found the old orc even more frightening than his younger counterparts. He’d have to make sure he didn’t smile widely, didn’t want to show teeth and tusks. Yeah.

Varok stepped onto the porch and tapped on the door.

“Be right there!” a young man’s voice called out.

“No hurry,” Varok said easily.

Varok had to school himself not to stare when the young man opened the door. He stepped back, almost falling off the porch. Silently cursing his clumsiness had to wait. The young man in front of him was the closest Varok had ever seen to an angel. Long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, bright blue eyes, in the sweetest male face Varok had seen in his six decades on this green earth. A lock had escaped the hair tie, and Varok had to physically restrain himself from tucking that tendril back behind its owner’s ear.

“Can I help you?” the young man asked.

“I’m looking for work. Full time year-round if you have it, seasonal if that’s all you need.”

“Great! Let’s go talk to my dad. He’s in the barn at this hour. I’m Anduin.”

“Hello, Anduin. I am Varok, of the Blackrock Clan.”

“Do you have your tribal papers? Dad will need them.”

“In my truck.”

“Awesome.” Anduin made his way over to the larger of the three barns in sight. Once inside the cool dimness, the scent of horses was nearly overpowering. Varok took a deep breath.

“You like the smell too, huh?” Anduin giggled.

Varok couldn’t help but smile. “Most of them,” he said wryly.

Anduin laughed again, the most beautiful bell-like sound.

That brought a dark-haired man out from one of the stalls.

“Anduin, you better not be on the – oh, hullo there!”

Varok shook the man’s hand.

“Dad, this is Varok, he’s looking to sign on with us. Varok, my father, Varian Wrynn.”

“I know Lo’Gosh,” Varok said, smiling.

“That was years ago,” Varian laughed. “Come on, we need to do a bit of paperwork, and you can start right away.”

“Excellent.” Varok went out to his truck to grab his sheaf of papers, then followed him to the house, to an office crowded with trophies, paperwork, and the mementos of a lifetime spent on the land. Varok noted the chairs were big enough for orcs of his frame.

“You leave that trail sign up year-round?” Varok asked.

Varian nodded as he fished through a filing cabinet. “I know what it’s like to be homeless, friendless, and hungry. The Warsong clan helped me out when my own family had written me off.” Varian stopped, and Varok could tell he was being weighed.

“You said you’re Blackrock? Did you have much truck with the Warsong?”

Varok nodded.

Varian sighed. “The Chief’s son, Garrosh. Do you know him?”

Varok chuckled. “Oh, I know him. Temper like a stepped-on rattlesnake and a troublemaker to boot. Last time I was out that way, they hadn’t seen him in five or more years.”

Varian sighed again. “Damn it.”

“He’s a friend?”

“Yeah.”

“If I see any Warsong, I’ll pass on the word.”

“Thank you. They don’t like the small teeth barging on their lands.”

“No. No, they don’t.”

The paperwork took less than fifteen minutes, when Varian finally found it, and forty minutes later, Varok was on a tractor doing pasture maintenance. He could tell the father and son were far behind on their work – this paddock should have been tended weeks ago. No matter.

Ever since the Riots, Varok had stuck to areas like this – farms and ranches as far as the eye could see, and good people needing help who didn’t ask a lot of questions. Varok snorted as he turned the machine at the end of the field, lining up for his next pass. Varian likely knew all about his sordid past, and just as likely took him at face value. Refreshing.

He finished this pass. Two more and the paddock would be ready for the next rotation. He unhitched the collection cart and just hauled it over to the compost pile; it was faster than maneuvering the tractor. He hitched the cart back up, then climbed back in. He was about halfway done when something bright red flapping caught his eye. Anduin was flagging him down, gesturing broadly to come to the house. Varok took only enough time to cut the engine and flip the safety before jumping out and jogging to the kitchen door.

The smell of roasted meat and pie hit Varok as soon as he reached for the handle of the screen door, making his mouth water. He let himself in, closed the screen firmly to keep out the bugs, then took the seat Varian pointed to.

Anduin stood at the stove, wearing a black apron which read, ‘kiss the cook’ over his flannel shirt and jeans. Varok had to stomp down on how very much he wanted to take the young man up on that offer. He quickly served up the noon meal, and the three of them wasted no time in eating.

After ten minutes of no more conversation than “please pass the pepper’, Varian looked up at Varok.

“How bad is the pasture?”

“Not as bad now,” Varok chuckled. “Two more passes and it might not be a health hazard for the cows.”

“Fantastic. When you finish up there, can you give me a hand in the equipment shed? After tomorrow we’re supposed to have a week of sunny weather. I want to get the haying done.”

“Sure thing. Be about an hour and a half or so.”

Once the meal was done, Anduin cleared the dishes. Varok took Varian’s cue and went back to work. The young man was a damn good cook. He had even thought to give Varok a cooler full of not water, as Varok has expected, but lemonade.

The afternoon’s work was even more pleasant, and soon Varok found himself in the cool shade of the barn, servicing the various pieces of haying equipment. With both men working on them, the task was finished before dinner.

“Ah, Anduin’s got dinner ready. I can smell it from here,” Varian chuckled.

“They say hunger is the best sauce, but your son is a gifted cook.”

Varian laughed. “Wait till he’s comfortable enough around you to start using you as a taste tester for some of his concoctions.”

Varok shrugged, smiling. “Food is food.”

“Until Anduin gets a hold of it.”

The three men sat down to an herb encrusted roast that Varok privately thought should be gracing a high-end steakhouse’s tables, it was that good. As was beginning to be customary, talk began after the first half of the meal had been consumed.

“It’s definitely going to rain tomorrow,” Anduin sighed.

“The crops need the rain, son,” Varian said.

“Yeah, but I hate working in it,” Anduin grinned at his father. “I get all muddy, and then you yell about me tracking it into the house.”

“The mud pie I found in my chair wasn’t from your shoes,” Varian said.

“Or from a cow, hopefully,” Varok chuckled.

Anduin’s blue eyes sparkled.

“That was not a suggestion, Anduin Lane!”

“Yes, sir.”

Mollified, Varian turned to Varok. “There’s two bedrooms with a bath between them down that hallway, take your pick. Anduin can help you if you have any washing or mending.”

“Thank you,” Varok said sincerely. He got up, got his meager belongings out of the truck, and took them inside.

“Mending first,” Anduin said.

“That would be most of it,” Varok sighed. He set the backpack down in front of the younger man and took a seat next to him at the kitchen table.

“It’s okay. I like sewing,” Anduin said.

“You’re an odd one,” Varok commented.

“Dad doesn’t have the patience,” Anduin explained. “And I like clothes, so yeah, I learned so I could keep my stuff nice.”

Varok nodded, watching Anduin as he expertly folded each article of clothing. He retrieved a tin of sewing things from a side table, sat back down, and quickly mended all fifteen items.

“Now, the wash. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Prejudice,” Varok quipped, earning a smile.

“Good. Me too!” Anduin set the washer and let it fill before tossing Varok’s clothes in. He closed the lid. “There now. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please. Cream and sugar. Not quite children’s coffee, but close enough.”

“Ha! That’s the way Dad likes it. He pretends to drink it black, but he doesn’t, really.” Anduin got down a large mug from one of the wall cabinets and quickly made the hot drink. “Here you go.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”

“Not this late. I’ll be forever going to sleep, then tomorrow I’ll be a zombie and I have too much to do in the garden.”

“You handle all the household tasks and the gardening?”

Anduin nodded. “My mom died when I was a little less than a year old. She had something wrong with her heart that no one knew about until she just dropped.”

“I’m truly sorry. I know you miss her.”

“I don’t remember her; it makes it a little easier for me. But it really messed with Dad. He left me with my maternal grandmother and just disappeared. He was gone for almost four years. Then he came back, got me, and he had this place all set up and ready to go. We’ve been here ever since.”

There was clearly more to the story; Varok guessed Varian had spared his son details, especially those putting his relatives in a bad light.

“You like it here.”

“I love it! Dad doesn’t have to worry; when he’s too old to manage the ranch, I’m going to take it over and take care of it, the way he taught me.”

“Good. I know you make him proud.”

Anduin’s smile was blinding. “He tells me so every day.”

Varian listened to the chatter in the kitchen for a few minutes. Satisfied Anduin and the Blackrock were getting along, he headed to his office. May as well knock some paperwork out, and maybe try to organize the place since it was too late and too dark to do anything else. He cleaned the office, took out the trash, then sat at his desk and organized his paperwork. He found the vet handbook he’d been looking for, buried under a pile of papers. Something was sticking out of it.

Varian pulled out a photograph, taken over twenty years ago. He remembered the day it was taken as if it were yesterday; the day he fell in love with Garrosh Hellscream. He stood, staring at the picture, as the memories unfolded.


	2. Chapter 2

**_JUNE 1994_ **

****

Varian walked along the two-lane black top, heading west. Heading wherever the wind and the rain and his own aching hole of a heart took him. His father was dead, in the Baltimore Riots that should never have happened, dead because Lane Wrynn believed in equality for all peoples, not just humans. His mother was lost in her own grief and blame and sorrow and pain. He couldn’t reach her anymore. He didn’t think anyone could.

Varian stumbled over his own feet, recovered, barely, and kept walking. His feet hurt. His legs hurt. His empty stomach growled. He was so thirsty the stagnant water in the ditch was starting to look good. He had no idea where he was. Just some trucker’s road installed when Einstein Eisenhower decided there needed to be more roads.

He stumbled again, this time going down painfully onto his knees. He carefully stood back up, brushed off his pants legs, and kept on walking. The road stretched on, with swathes of trees on either side. The air was warm, with just a hint of breeze blowing the smells of the forest around him. It cooled him a bit, made the walk a little more tolerable. The sun continued its ascent into the heavens, then back down again, and still Varian walked. Clouds gathered on the horizon. Sometime after noon, it began to rain. Varian tripped again, this time in a puddle, and fell flat on his face. The wind knocked out of him, starving, and thirsty, his vision clouded over, and everything went black.

When Varian regained consciousness, he wasn’t on the road anymore. He lay on his back on something soft. Pillows propped him up to a near-sitting position. Rain drummed on a roof, punctuated by gusts of wind that blew into an unused chimney near where he lay. He was clean and dry. His wounds had been stitched up and treated with healing ointment. He smelled roasting meat, the musk of orcs, the dry bittersweet odors of healing herbs. He was covered in a sheet and a quilt, his middle wrapped in a clout. The taste of rich broth lingered on his lips.

Orcs. Their rules of hospitality were complex, but Varian remembered one thing – as a whole, they did not suffer idleness. He took a deep breath, blew it out, then lifted his shoulders off the bed.

A large, calloused hand grasped his bare shoulder, gently pushing him back down.

“Don’t,” a low male voice rumbled. “Rest. You are still very ill.”

“I will carry my weight,” Varian said. He was ashamed at how weak he sounded.

“When you are able,” the voice spoke again. “Which is certainly not now,” A ripple of amusement colored the orc’s voice.

Varian finally managed to open his eyes – why was that so difficult? – to see a Warsong, swirling tattoos covering most of his shoulders, chest, and forearms, all bare to the only light in the room, a small lamp. He had to admit, the orc was… impressive. Even kneeling next to the bed, he was massive, wide-shouldered and heavily muscled.

The orc lifted Varian gently, bringing a large cup of water to his mouth. He gratefully drank – he was still so thirsty; he just hadn’t realized it yet. When the cup was empty, the orc laid him back on the bed.

“Rest. We will talk more later.”

“What’s your name?” Varian’s voice sounded far away to his own ears.

“Garrosh.”

“I am Varian.” And darkness took him again.

Varian faded in and out of consciousness. His wounds had festered. He was wracked with fever. He heard Garrosh’s voice, another lighter tenor rumble, the voice of an aged female - the Great Mother, most likely. He was too far gone to understand them, too weak to do anything more than squeeze a hand when he managed to surface out of the darkness.

He next time Varian fully roused, he was up to his neck in cool water, his back to Garrosh’s chest and the orc’s massive arms strong around him. Water splashed his face.

“Varian,” Garrosh rumbled, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” Varian managed to answer.

“Your fever has broken. The worst is over.”

Varian nodded.

Garrosh swung Varian into his arms and waded to shore. There, Varian was dried off with towels, wrapped in a quilt, and carried somewhere, back to the house or hut he’d been in, he thought. After a long drink of cool water, and nearly a quart of broth, Varian slept.

The nightmares stayed at bay. At least for one night.

The next day, Varian woke up to Garrosh kneeling by his bed.

“Good. You’re awake,” Garrosh rumbled. He sat a large carved wooden bowl in front of him, next to Varian’s knee, and propped him up in one massive arm. With his free hand, he brought bits of meat and roast vegetables to Varian’s lips, giving him plenty of time to chew and swallow. Every so often, Garrosh would give him tea or water to drink.

Realization dawned on Varian. Garrosh must care for him. This was above and beyond what a stranger could expect, even from famed orcish hospitality. He looked at the orc, really looked at him, and saw the kindness in his face, heard it in his voice. How gentle the massive orc was with his frail, weak body.

“Full,” Varian whispered, turning his head way.

“Hmm. Good.” Garrosh laid him down, picked up a fork, and polished off the rest of the contents of the bowl. Varian faded back to sleep not long after.

And again, the nightmares stayed away. Varian slept well, deeply, warm and secure for the first time in a long time.

Varian’s recovery was swift; two weeks from the day Garrosh had found him by the side of the road, he staggered out of the small home into daylight under his own power. He joined Garrosh and the other orcs around the communal fire, where the biggest pig Varian had ever seen was being roasted whole on a spit. Varian had learned Orcish as a young boy, earning him great respect in the eyes of the tribe; most Warsong outside of Garrosh and his father spoke little to no English.

Varian integrated into the tribe as if he’d always been there; he and Garrosh were inseparable from the first day. They hunted and fished, met with the leaders of the other tribes, and slept in the same hut on the edge of Warsong lands. Summer turned to fall, and as the days got colder, Varian began to seek Garrosh’s warmth at night, curling up close.

He woke up one crisp fall morning to find Garrosh’s arm and leg over him, pulled in close. He lay there, uncertain. On one hand, he hadn’t been cold. No nightmares, either. On the other, he regarded Garrosh as a good friend. He suspected Garrosh felt… something else. But he wasn’t sure. Varian turned over the idea of sex with Garrosh in his head. The thought… intrigued him. He hadn’t messed with anyone since sophomore year of high school, which felt like a lifetime ago.

Varian blew out a sigh. The worst thing that could happen was he made a mistake. He knew Garrosh well enough by now, if he was wrong, the big orc would just laugh, say what he thought on the matter, and go back to sleep. Garrosh had rolled onto his back, arm still under Varian’s head. Varian sat up, reached out, and put a tentative hand on the orc’s muscled chest. He could feel Garrosh’s heartbeat under his fingers. He traced the lines of the swirling tattoos, across the orc’s chest, his shoulders, his arms, then caressed the orc’s face.

A low rumble rose from Garrosh’s chest. Varian took it as encouragement, sliding his fingers from the orc’s cheek, to his jaw, to his neck. Varian leaned over, and kissed Garrosh’s lower lip. The orc responded in kind, the kiss deepening as both gained more confidence from the other’s reaction. Massive hands closed on his shoulder, his ribs, pulling him closer, chest to chest. Varian’s heart hammered. His fumbling attempts with the girl next door felt nothing like this. Garrosh seized him, flipped them around so Varian lay on his back with the orc looming over him. Another ferocious kiss left Varian panting. He felt Garrosh’s tusks brush against his throat as the orc trailed kisses from his lips to his chest. Garrosh’s tongue flicked out, tasting a nipple, as his fingers kneaded the other. Varian moaned, answered by a rumble deep in the orc’s chest. Garrosh’s attentions slowly slipped further down, across Varian’s ribs, then his abdomen. Varian tried to pull off the shorts he wore, but Garrosh’s hand stopped him, bringing the hand up to the back of his head. Garrosh slid his fingers under the waistband, lifting it only slightly, giving his tongue enough room to flick in. As more flesh was exposed, Garrosh kissed it. Varian’s cock fell out of his shorts, free, and that rumbling noise reverberated through Varian’s flesh, up his spine, sending sparks all along its length.

Varian gasped and shuddered as Garrosh took his length into his mouth, fully, tongue protecting its sensitive length from his teeth and tusks. Almost convulsively, he pulled Garrosh’s head down, and met no resistance. Up and down, tongue swirling against his most sensitive parts, Garrosh worked the human into a near frenzy.

“Garrosh!” Varian whispered. He wanted to shout, but his voice was stolen by his pleasure.

Garrosh lifted his head, slowly coming off Varian’s cock, and smiled, almost reverently. A massive hand replaced his mouth, stroking it slowly, thumb massaging the tip. And then Garrosh moved, straddling Varian, and before Varian knew what was happening, his cock was buried inside him, almost to the hilt. Garrosh hissed, then moaned, slowly rocking up and down, as Varian moaned. Varian’s hands were on his hips, encouraging Garrosh to go faster, faster. Garrosh stroked his own erection in time to Varian’s thrusts.

Varian groaned as he filled Garrosh’s ass with his seed. Not even a minute later, Garrosh came, stroking furiously, milking every drop of his own spend onto Varian’s chest and abdomen. Panting, spent, they collapsed into a heap, Garrosh laying half on top of the human, and fell back asleep.

When they finally arose, much later in the day, they bathed together, dressed, then walked hand in hand to the tattoo artist. They were mates now, and Varian was truly a part of the tribe.

Varian snapped back to the present, still clutching the photograph, his other hand on his collarbone. Not even Anduin had seen him shirtless. Varian knew his son, of all people, would understand; but better to keep hidden the alliances of the past. Not everyone in this so-called enlightened modern day would understand, and even in the progressive little town they called home, there would be those who would shun someone with such an intimate connection to the orcs.

For the thousandth time, he wondered where Garrosh was. Varian hoped he was in Warsong lands still, with another mate and children of his own. That maybe one of them had forgotten, had moved on from their time together. Varian realized now, in the wisdom of his years, that Tiffin had been the antidote to the connection he shared with Garrosh. A way to cover the pain of his decision in dreams of a future safe from prejudices. She’d birthed his only son, the treasure of his heart. Their time together had been so short.

Varian put the photograph back into the book and headed to his room. There, he stripped, tossing aside his clothing, and headed for the shower. And once again, he was reminded of the past. His reflection in the mirror showed a dark brown, swirling tattoo stretched from the back of Varian’s bicep, up his arm, across his back, to the other bicep. Marking him now, and forever, as Warsong. As the mate of the Chieftain’s blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Varian woke up from pleasant dreams of his days with Garrosh to rain drumming on the roof. Varian chuckled. Maybe today would bring some sort of good luck? As he showered and dressed, he heard Anduin downstairs singing some old song. Breakfast would be ready soon.

As the three men gathered for the morning meal, Varok greeted him.

“Good morning, boss. I take it cleaning out the pastures is off the table today?”

“Yeah, for the most part,” Varian accepted the mug of coffee from Anduin; he noticed Varok’s mug already in front of him. “It might ease up this afternoon. If it doesn’t, oh well. As soon as we eat, I want to go over everything in the barn, check the tack, get the maintenance out of the way. If it rains all day, I’ll only need a half a day from you; if you want, you can go up into town, or just rest up a bit.”

“Dad, you need to pay Varok, too,” Anduin admonished him, as he put plates full of food on the table. “It’s pointless to go into town if he doesn’t have his check yet.”

“Right.” Varian grinned up at his son.

“Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t he?” Varok grinned, nodding at the younger man.

“Every day.”

The rain persisted until well after dark; after maintenance was caught up, the tack checked, and everything cleaned up and put away, Varian headed to his office, gave Varok his check, and sent him on his way.

Anduin was out in the large garden, planting something tiny and green into the rich soil, when Varok went to go find him.

“Need a hand?” Varok asked.

“Oh, please? I’ve got six more rows to plant, and I want it to get a nice watering before dark.”

So Varok found a scooter base, nailed a seat to it, and together they planted out most of the garden. By the time they were done, the tools cleaned and put away, they were both soaked through.

“Go get a shower, warm up,” Varok told the younger man. Anduin tongued his lip ring, eyes sparkling, but whatever he was about to say, he chose instead to turn and run for the house. Varok followed behind, at a much slower pace, shaking his head at the younger man.

The warm spray felt so nice; Varok had bathed in more than one freezing cold stream in his lifetime and appreciated the luxury. After he attended to getting cleaned up, shaved, and dressed, the evening meal was on the table. He ate, nodded to Varian, then headed out to his truck.

Anduin followed him.

“Need a ride?” Varok asked.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Anduin smiled.

Varok cleared off a space for him, and they were off.

“All right, nothing in life is free. You’re my navigator. What’s the fastest route to town?” Varok asked.

Anduin was only too happy to tell him, and soon enough, they pulled into the town of Freemont. Varok looked around the town as he drove through. It was small, with five or six dozen houses, a gas station, a grocery store, and strangely enough, a Wal-Mart.

“Josh at the gas station can cash your check for you, the bank closed hours ago,” Anduin offered helpfully. “Plus, you’re definitely going to need gas to get back home.”

Varok lifted his wrist to check his gas gauge and found Anduin was right.

“Good,” Varok answered, chuckling. “Kill two birds with one stone.” He pulled into the gas station and up to a pump.

They went inside together, where Anduin made introductions, then scampered off down one of the aisles to purchase snacks. Josh, a lanky human of indeterminate age, had him fill out an index card with his name, address, and a phone number, filed it away in a plastic box maybe a year younger than Varok himself, and cashed the check without further comment. Varok peeled off forty dollars.

“Pump six?” Josh asked. Varok nodded.

“I got you,” Josh said.

Varok went out to pump the gas while Anduin finished picking up his snacks. He was rather surprised to see the young man loaded down with several bags in each hand. Varok hung up the nozzle, shut the fuel door, and climbed back in.

“Well supplied, now?” he asked.

“For the moment,” Anduin grinned. “Now that you have a card on file, you can cash your check there anytime you like,” he added.

“While we’re here, I need to go to Wal-Mart. I assume this one has a decent automotive section?”

“More than,” Anduin grinned.

“Good. When do you go grocery shopping?”

“Dad likes to go right at dawn, the first Monday of the month, it’s not crowded then, and most of the stock is put away.”

“You’ve never known the joy of sleeping in, have you?” Varok asked, grinning back.

“The first winter after I graduated. We didn’t have the horses that year, so I got to sleep till seven most mornings.”

“So, the horses are a recent addition.”

“Yeah, Dad got our stallion, Gunnar, and three mares – Bitsy, Flower, and Maddie – at a farm auction last spring. It took us a while to get used to having them around, and vice versa. But Dad got the mares bred in June, so we’ll have our first foals starting at the end of this month or the beginning of next.”

“What does he plan to do with them?”

“Mostly he’s going to train them for hitch and riding, keep back the promising ones to increase the herd. I saw his plans on his desk – he’s got it all mapped out.”

Varok parked near the right-hand entrance, and the two of them got out. Varok locked the doors to his truck, and they headed inside. Anduin grabbed a cart and pushed it around next to Varok as they chatted about all things farming. Varok made a beeline for the automotive section first. A full tank of gas wasn’t the only thing his truck desperately needed.

Once he’d finished in that section, it was off to clothes and shoes. Varok needed new work boots, and most of his clothes were barely hanging on thanks to Anduin’s sewing skills. Varok silently thanked whatever entity oversaw placing the big box store. He needed a lot of stuff.

When Varok had finally gotten everything he needed, he walked around with Anduin for a bit while the young man picked up some other things. He didn’t really pay attention, too busy noticing how fluidly Anduin moved, how he sang quietly along with the music, how very golden his hair was even under the fluorescent lighting.

After half an hour, he shook his head to rid himself of such inane fantasies. He was four decades the young man’s senior, and more importantly, Anduin was _the boss’s son_. Eventually, they finished shopping and headed for the checkouts. Anduin carried his purchases to the self-checkouts, while Varok opted for a checkout line. Once the transactions were taken care of, the two headed back to the truck.

“Oh, it’ll be so nice to have some soda and chips tonight,” Anduin leaned back into the seat.

“It’ll be nice to know my truck isn’t going to die from lack of maintenance. But that will have to wait for tomorrow, or the weekend, or whichever.” Varok chuckled.

“Yeah, the weather is supposed to clear up tomorrow, and Dad has about a zillion acres in hay.”

“And the equipment is ready to go.”

“Good.”

When they returned to the ranch, Anduin slid out of the truck, grabbed his purchases, and ran to get them inside. Varok smiled as he grabbed his own items. He figured Anduin didn’t want his father seeing the massive amounts of junk he’d bought. Varok was surprised when Anduin jogged back out and helped him with his bags as well.

“You need to get your new stuff ready, so the faster we get inside, the faster we can get settled,” Anduin smiled.

“True.” Varok followed him.

It was a matter of a few moments to put away his purchases, and Varok soon found himself sitting at the kitchen table with Anduin, enjoying a cup of coffee and quiet camaraderie as the washer chugged out its steady rhythm. Varok laced his boots properly, slipped the cushioned insoles into them, and put them away, then came back to just enjoy the peace. Their quiet was only interrupted by the washer’s beeping. Anduin got up, tossed everything in the dryer, and then sat back down, next to Varok, and leaned against him. Varok put an arm around him, and just sat still, enjoying the contact for the gift it was. Once the dryer beeped as well, Varok gathered up his clothing, bid Anduin goodnight, and all but ran to his room.

The next morning, Varok arose, got ready for the day, and sat down with Varian and Anduin for a hearty meal.

“Prepare yourself,” Varian chuckled. “Clear weather for the next six days.”

“Just enough time to get all the haying done?” Varok grinned.

“I think so, now I have an experienced operator.”

Anduin dipped his shoulders a bit. “Sorry, Dad.”

“You gave it your best,” Varian chuckled. “That’s all I asked. And you were a big help.”

Anduin smiled. “Besides, I’ve got to keep an eye on the mares, all of them look like they’re ready to pop.”

“All three of them are due between now and the middle of next month,” Varian agreed. “Did you get all the starts set out?”

“Yeah, Varok helped me, or I never would have got them all done before dark,” Anduin said. “I’ll bring lunch out to the big post after noon.”

“Good. Lemonade?”

“Already made and in the fridge, I just have to pour it in your jugs.”

“Good, we’ll start as soon as you’re finished eating.”

For the next five days, Varok did nothing but help Varian get the haying done. It was sunup to sundown work, with only a thirty-minute break just after noon when Anduin brought out food and refills of lemonade. But just before dark on the fifth day, the entire harvest was in the hay barn, safely stored away, and both Varok and Varian agreed it was work well done.

When they sat down to dinner, the collective grunts from both showed just how much a toll the haying had taken. Anduin kept quiet, putting plates heaped with food in front of them, then sitting down with his much smaller portion.

“Son, do you think you can get all the animals fed tomorrow?”

“Of course. I was already planning on it. I remember what it was like last time, and we had more help then.”

Varian hissed and winced as he leaned back in the chair. “Varok, you have one job tomorrow. Make sure the trail sign is still readable. Then go back to bed.”

“I copy that, loud and clear,” Varok answered with a grunt of his own.

After Varian made his unsteady way up the stairs to his room, Anduin turned to Varok.

“If you like, we can go check the sign now. I have a good flashlight, and that way, you can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Good idea.”

The two set up the driveway.

“I’d just handle it myself, but I don’t really know what it’s supposed to look like,” Anduin said.

“I’ll show you,” Varok promised. “And tomorrow, once I get out of bed, I’ll teach you a few more useful signs.”

“Thank you,” Anduin said sincerely. Varok looked down and saw that dazzling smile, and nearly tripped.

“Maybe we should have waited till morning,” Anduin fretted.

“I’m fine,” Varok said. “Just tired.”

Anduin tentatively reached out, placing his hand on Varok’s forearm. Varok covered it with his other hand and smiled.

The sign had fallen; it was the work of only a few minutes to fix it and secure it to the fence. Then the two headed back up the driveway. They parted ways in the kitchen. Varok took a long, hot shower, then stepped out, wrapped a towel around his middle, and started the process of combing out his tangled hair.

“Would you like some help?” Anduin asked, practically at his elbow. Varok startled; the comb dropped to the floor. Anduin bent down and retrieved it, holding on to it, looking up at him.

Varok smiled and sat down on the floor. Anduin took the comb and carefully combed through every strand of his hair.

“I know you’re sore and tired,” Anduin said in a gentle tone. “Would you like a back rub?”

“Yes.” Varok didn’t hesitate.

Varok got up with some difficulty and made his way to his bed. He pulled off the towel, tossing it onto the chair nearby, and stretched out on his stomach. The bed creaked a bit as Anduin clambered onto it, and to Varok’s surprise, Anduin straddled his back. He heard a click, then another, and then oiled hands were on the base of his neck, massaging the soreness away. Varok tried to stay awake, but the sensation of relaxation and comfort overrode his desires. He dozed off before Anduin had even reached his shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

Help finally arrived, and none too soon; the gravid mares needed near-constant care; the fields required tending, and the thousand small and large chores were becoming overwhelming. Varian made sure the newcomers knew Varok was the boss of the hired help; being the first one to apply had its perks. Tek’ali, an older troll; Lur’ogg, a young, rather clumsy but good-natured orc; Morlach, a young night elf; and the newest one, Golmok, another young orc, quiet and industrious, rounded out the crew. Varok kept them on the go from dawn till dusk to catch up with what needed to be done, while Varian concentrated on the livestock and Anduin held down the domestic end of the fort.

The garden flourished throughout the summer under Anduin’s care; the young man had quite the gift for growing things. Varok couldn’t believe his eyes as the once spindly-looking seedlings grew into stocky plants, bearing in their time. Anduin kept the entire household well fed and supplied with lemonade to drink out in the field.

Whenever a scarce opportunity presented itself, Varok would spend some quiet time with Anduin. Varok cherished those few moments he got, sitting next to the younger man, just content to be. Sometimes Anduin would sing along with the radio in his truck, and on a last-minute ride into town, Anduin scooted to the middle seat, straddling the gear selector.

Meaning Varok had to reach between the young man’s legs to shift.

“Anduin?”

“Pull down this side road,” Anduin instructed.

Varok did as he was asked, and soon the two of them were on a deserted stretch of dirt road.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, really talk to you, without Dad or the others around,” Anduin looked up at the old orc. “You’re wise, and funny, and you know how to just be quiet. I need to…” Anduin trailed off at Varok’s expression, uncertain.

“Anduin, you are the boss’s son,” Varok said.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, I promise,” Anduin looked up, eyes sparking with mischief – and something Varok hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long, long time.

Desire.

Before he could think what to do or say, Anduin had stripped off his clothing and shoes, opened the door to the truck, and slid out. He walked in front of the headlights, showing off, and opened the driver’s door. Varok, both hands on the wheel, was shocked speechless.

“Please, follow me?” Anduin looked up at the orc.

Wordlessly, Varok paused only long enough to turn off the truck and secure it before following Anduin down a path almost completely concealed by vegetation. In the thick of the forest, obscured by huge oak and linden trees, Anduin walked up to a small shack. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Varok stepped in behind him as Anduin lit a small lamp. In the dim illumination, Varok picked out a mattress, an old cooler, and a two-shelf bookshelf with magazines piled haphazardly. Anduin stretched out on the mattress.

“Please, lay down beside me,” Anduin smiled.

Varok looked around again, then leaned against the door frame and removed his own clothing. Anduin’s eyes sparked even brighter in the dim glow of the small lamp. Varok carefully lowered himself down. As soon as he stopped moving, Anduin stretched, then straddled Varok, leaned down, and gently kissed him.

Varok stopped thinking, stopped kicking himself for getting involved with the boss’s son, and just reacted, kissing the blonde back with such ferocity he gasped. Varok’s arms encircled Anduin, locking him in place, as the old orc’s tongue ravaged his mouth. When Varok was good and ready, his tongue flicked out to taste the skin of his neck, his shoulder, then his chest. Varok flung Anduin down flat on the mattress, pinning his arms with one hand, the other pressing into the mattress for balance, as his tongue roved over flesh. Anduin moaned as Varok’s tongue teased both of his nipples, one after the other, and Varok’s mouth ranged even farther down.

Varok spotted the lube, tucked into a corner of the bookshelf, and smiled. He let go of Anduin’s wrists, picked up the bottle, and dripped the lube onto his index finger. He grabbed Anduin’s thigh, hauled him closer, driving his legs apart, and then slid his lubed finger into Anduin’s entrance, up to the first knuckle.

Anduin cried out, spurring the old orc on; Varok’s finger slid in and out, repeatedly. Varok lubed his middle finger and added it, much more slowly. Varok took his time, enjoying the sight of the young man writhing, the smells of arousal and want, the way the boy begged for more, more… Varok scissored his fingers, slowly, stretching, lubing the entrance some more as he continued to prepare the blonde.

Varok stopped, wiped his fingers on his thigh, and all but pulled Anduin by the hair to between his own legs.

“You want this?” Varok grunted. “Suck.”

Anduin did as he was told, taking as much of Varok’s half-erect length into his mouth as he could., his hands seeing to what his mouth couldn’t. Varok grunted as the boy’s clever tongue sent shivers up and down his spine. There was a moment of jealousy – how many times had _others_ enjoyed this? – before need overrode everything else. It had been so long. Too long.

Anduin brought the old orc nearly to orgasm; this would not do. Varok carefully pulled the boy off him, then used size and strength to simply flip Anduin onto his stomach. Anduin lay still, legs spread, panting. Varok pushed his legs a little farther apart and pressed the head of his cock against the entrance.

“Please?” Anduin begged.

Varok obliged, slowly at first, then thrusting more quickly, encouraged by the small human’s cries. Time meant nothing. There was only the feel of the soft sweet boy beneath him, of his cock buried to the hilt in heat and tightness, the feeling of possession.

_Mine._

Varok spent himself at the thought. They lay together, panting, for what felt like hours, before wordlessly getting dressed, clambering into the truck, and continuing to the store.

Appearances had to be maintained, after all.

Varok and Anduin both knew Varian would be angry if he found out how deep their relationship had grown; they were as discreet as possible, never taking their ease if there was even the slightest risk of discovery. Varok found he enjoyed the challenge. Anduin seemed to as well. As it stood, from their first late summer tryst to the first snows of early winter, they managed to meet in the old cabin about once a week or so. Winter effectively shut that possibility out; the cabin was far too drafty and old to be safe to use in the subzero temperatures of the cold season.

Circle W Ranch had its fair share of success; sales were made, the fruits of Anduin’s labor stored in the pantry and deep freeze. Thanksgiving was four people: Varian, Anduin, Lur’ogg, and Varok. Anduin’s feast fed the four men for nearly a week after, prompting Varian to tease his son about fattening them all up for the spring market. Anduin’s only answer was his trademark mischievous smile. 

Traditionally, wintertime was the time for orcs like Varok to ply his trade. He made jewelry out of the stones and gems he found on the property, including his gifts for his employer and Anduin. By prior agreement, Lur’ogg left on the second Monday in December to spend the holiday with his family.

Varian, Varok, and Anduin had just finished the evening meal on the first day of winter when Varian looked out the kitchen window – and cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Varok asked. He’d already risen and was copying his employer, shoving on coat and boots.

“Cattle loose in the yard. They must have broken the fence,” Varian called out, as he headed for the barn.

Varok, much too big to ride any of the horses, sighed. A long, cold night of walking fences lay ahead of him.

"I’ll have hot drinks waiting for you when you get back,” Anduin assured the old orc. “Please, be careful!”

“I will. I don’t know how long it will take, though.” Varok sighed again and shut the kitchen door firmly behind him. Clicking on his flashlight, he started walking to the easternmost side of the property.

Varian saddled up his favorite stallion, Gunnar, and gathered up the cattle. A quick check of their flanks revealed they were from a neighboring ranch. Varian sighed again, then carefully herded the cattle back to their barn. He tied the barn door shut, then left a note. The ride back was long, cold, and made even more difficult by the clouds scudding across the moon, blocking what little pale light fell upon the snow-covered landscape.

After an hour’s ride, Varian realized he’d gotten turned around. Taking a deep breath of the still cold night air, he reined Gunnar to a halt and took in his surroundings. He realized, a chill racing down his spine, that he was almost an hour deep into the BLM lands that bordered the farm. Silently cursing his own stupidity – it really wouldn’t have hurt to let the damn cows stay in his barn until the morning – he carefully reined Gunnar to face in the proper direction and headed off again.

Varok returned just before midnight; all the fences on his route had been secure, though a few posts would need replacing once the ground thawed in spring. He stripped off his coat and boots once inside the warmth of the kitchen. Anduin handed him a steaming mug, and he gratefully drank the hot toddy. Anduin wrapped himself in a quilt and sat on the bench next to Varok. Together, they waited for Varian to return.

By two am, Varok was considering going back out to look for the elder Wrynn; something surely must have happened for him to be so delayed. He would have called from a neighbor’s house by now if he were staying there…

Anduin touched his forearm.

“Dad always said, in something like this, we stay put. No sense in three idiots lost in the woods when there’s only one idiot to blame.”

Varok nodded. He didn’t like the situation, not one bit, but he knew Lo’Gosh could handle himself. Anduin wrapped the quilt tighter around himself, and the two settled in to wait.

If the position of the moon was any indication, Varian had been lost in the woods for well over two hours. Gunnar plodded along while Varian kept watch for anything remotely resembling a landmark. Varian was getting tired, dangerously so. He needed to get back to the house, and soon.

Gunnar startled; Varian had just enough time to rein him in. As it was, the big stallion danced in place, nickering, ears pricked. Varian looked carefully and saw nothing but a low rock outcropping, dark against the new-fallen snow. He nudged the horse forward; Gunnar clearly was not happy about this situation but trusted enough in his rider to follow through on the command. Maybe this would look familiar from another angle –

And then the “rock outcropping” moaned.

Varian swung off the stallion and led him closer, ready to spring back up if this was some sort of trap. An orc lay facedown in the snow, his dark clothing rent in dozens of places, revealing reddish brown flesh and so many wounds. Varian dropped the reins, crouched next to the orc, and turned him over.

His blood turned to ice in his veins.

_Garrosh Hellscream_ lay before him. Gaunt, bloodied, _dying_.

Varian led Gunnar over to his lover. Carefully lifting the unconscious orc, he lay Garrosh across the saddle, belly down, and then turned to see if anything looked familiar. Finally, at just the range of his vision, he could see the dim yellow glow of the pole light outside his barn. Snowflakes began to swirl around him as he led the stallion towards home.


End file.
